Black Blood (Chapter)
(< Previous Chapter) - (Next Chapter >) Makaloz's POV At King Caye Cull Worr's palace, a Black Flagman loaded up a cannon. He was nondescript, just a man, a soldier, uniformed, hardly a face worth mentioning. His cannonball, however, was the first in an endless volley thrown Zul's way. He fired the cannon, covering his ears. Safety first when murdering innocents. It flew over Calum, over its burning buildings, and corpse-riddled bay, right over Mount Lu and its two scenic views, and down into the tent town, where it smashed into someone's tent, exploding it, anyone inside, and anyone nearby. A broken dog ran out of the tent, howling in pain. It barked just twice and fell. Dead. A herald of what was to come. The volley began at dawn. It was now dusk. The cannonfire was yet to stop. The finders of Zul were quite lucky. Zul was in an excellent defensive position. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, all it would take to successfully defend it were a few able-bodied men. Hard to come by in this kind of place, to be true, but so long as fifteen men would holder her, Zul was safe. At least, that was true a day ago. Certainly, arrows could be shot into the valley, but far less of them, and with far less damage. And, anyway, who would wish to attack a tent town full of hornmen? Makaloz had wondered that himself hundreds of times that day. He, along with two chieftains, and a few able-bodied men had manned the path up Mount Lu between Calum, and Zul. They had rained down arrow, flame, and boulders on hundreds of Black Flagmen. Makaloz hated this. Hated murder. He had given this up so long ago, and here he was, on the opposite side of a war, killing. 'Always with the killing,' he thought bitterly. He dropped a stone on a man with a sharp nose, breaking it. The man howled, and fell, hitting the hill twice on his way down. Dead. Makaloz wondered, 'did he inherit that nose from his mother or father? Will they ever know that he died here? Did he even have parents to return to? Children? Have I just made an orphan?' A Mykun or General saw the man's body smash into the ground. "Lak!" He looked up at Makaloz, and shouted "I'll have your head!" in Myklasi, staring him down hard with his beady eyes. 'War makes monsters of men,' he thought. 'But not all,' he thought, looking at another Mykun whom he could just barely make out. An old war buddy. An invader. 'Some men are born monsters.' The man was Luk, called the Baby-Eater. 'An apt name from what I remember seeing at Iggrub.' He was nondescript, black hair, tan skin, an eye color that escaped Makaloz's memory, and not particularly tall or short, strong or weak. Just a man on the outside. They locked eyes. 'Green.' For a second, nothing. Then, recognition, and a smile. Makaloz repressed every urge to kill that man. He could calm down the Southern Sage, who killed millions in ages past - so he could and would repress his vengefulness towards that abominable thing staring at him. Then there was a dagger at his back. It only nicked him, but the cold pierced into his throat as though he had been stabbed. "Sorrender," his would-be murderer said in a rough Myklasi accent. Makaloz raised his arms. He was not prideful. He would make no last stand; he intended on surviving this day, and all days to come. He cared for nothing more than seeing his nephew again. He would throw away every suckling babe in the valley to that end. "We surrender," Makaloz said, turning around. Fifteen Myklasi Knights. 'If I had but sixteen Thunder Knights, but sixteen, this would have been an easy battle,' he thought to himself dryly. A big brute of a man, Lozmak, did not surrender, shouting "burn in Hell Bottomjaw scum," charging one of the knights. His throat was slit before he had moved a foot. "F-fuc-k yo-ou," he gurgled out, blood pouring from his neck before he fell with a loud thud. "Fallow, now!" The same Myklasi Knight said. They followed him down into Zul. Another Myklasi Knight signalled down into Calum that the coast was clear. 'Myklasi Knights. Sworn to silence... their holy vow, a razor to the tongue. You'd think the ones that get to keep their tongues would at least have nice voices though.' Apparently, under the cover of darkness the night before, the Myklasi Knights had snuck in from the south. They had rounded up as many hornmen as possible, and were willing to spare anyone else so long as they renounced their old gods, and swore allegiance and fealty to King Kalth Viceses at Bottomjaw Castle. As a chieftain, he was thrown into a cage away from the other Zulicmen. Two knights stood next to his cage, standing guard for the night. One knight put his hands together, and lay his head on them, motioning for 'sleep.' Then he raised his finger to his throat, motioning that he would slit his throat if he did not obey. Wisely, Makaloz slept. In his dreams he saw Bottomjaw Castle. The castle that was a city. He saw King Kalth Kelcheldes. His King; handsome, strong, brave, a great warrior. He had captured the traitorous Kalar Relth of the Rainland, and was to throw him into the Shadowfinger to be executed. There, he saw the young prince. A little boy with platinum blond hair, just like his father. A widow's peak, a mole. Green eyes. His mousey little face remained so vivid in Makaloz's head. As did the boy's tears at what was to follow. Kalar Relth was throw into the Shadowfinger. The black curtain falling from the sky. He heard the man's screams. They were pained and guttural. And they did not stop, merely disappeared. Makaloz had always wondered 'what if he's still under there, screaming even now?' Before his very eyes, his great, strong king became a madman and a tyrant. Then he saw Iggrub. He saw burning villages, cannons being unleashed on children. He saw Luk ripping into one of their faces, gnashing his teeth like some sort of beastial thing. He saw a boy. Little yellow-haired Gregg. He had come into Zul just five years after the Invasion of Iggrub. Makaloz recognized him at once. Makaloz had ''killed his father after all. The Iggrubman, as they called him, was the closest thing that poor, prideful Makal had to an older brother. And little Hockrott was like a baby brother to him. 'Are they alive? Or are they all three of them dead and dying?' He dreamt of his sister Lozara. Poor, wretched Lozara with her own mousey, little face. She had seen so much. She had seen ''him do terrible things. She had to do terrible things. She didn't deserve any of it. She deserved to be a princess, dancing with a prince in the morning sun. Makaloz woke up crying and cold. It was dawn. Sunlight began peeking over the ground next to Mount Lu. The two moons were floating wistfully, far removed from any of the petty little things occurring down below. Someone shouted "get up, traitor" in Myklasi. 'Oh,' Makaloz thought. 'Luk told them.' "Ah, love that look! It's fear, huh-? Like Mykun Nahak says, he's to have your head," he said, letting him out of his cage. The soldier, as he was no knight, punched him in the back of head, letting him drop to the ground with a grunt. "Get up, turncloak!" Some other nearby soldiers jeered at him happily. Makaloz got up. The soldier chained his arms. "Follow me," he rasped out with a malicious grin. Makaloz was taken to a chopping block. Mykuni ''Luk and Nahak stared him down evilly. The Zulicmen in their chains and in their cages were set up to watch them. Then he saw Makal, the Iggrubman, Manth, Vrayek, and Rauz. Fear spread throughout his body, pumping through his veins. 'My god, they're just boys...' "Please, let me talk to my nephew - please!" Nahak peered at Luk for permission with a rotten smile. Luk nodded, sneering at Makaloz darkly. "Aye, we're nothing if not merciful." Makaloz was allowed to walk up to Makal. "What happened?" "There were twenty-five Myklasi Knights - they ambushed us at Runol! Bill, Land, and Rott fled down to Haunted Isle before that happened though. They tortured the information out of Kanal, they're being hunted as we speak. They say they gotta round up all the hornmen," Makal said. Makaloz had many questions. He wished to know why the hornmen were being rounded up. Was Kanal still alive? If not did he at least die quickly? Instead, he asked simply, at a loss for words, "Haunted Isle?" "They're following the black star," Makal said, gesturing towards the anomaly in the sky. Makaloz had not yet noticed it. He looked back down, and decided that he thought it seemed a bad omen. 'Gods help them, I pray to us all that it is not one of Spindlefingers' tricks,' he thought before turning to look back at Makal. He wet his lips nervously, and then began speaking, "they're going to kill me Makal. Never forget that I loved you, and that I am proud of you." The Myklasi Knight grabbed at him roughly, "alright, that's enough of that." The disgust was evident in his voice. He gestured for Nahak to execute him. Nahak began approaching. "Before you kill him," Luk said in Myklasi, before switching to Flayelandic, "''maybe dis man's got some zecrets to tell erryone." 'No... no, not that. Anything but that. My head I can afford to lose. But my nephew's pride? I must allow him to remember his pride...' "Go on, tell the lad!" Luk shouted. "Or I'll kill him too. Maybe rape him. Bit pretty for a boy. Not so hard to hide one hornman's death from Viceses." Makal looked so confused, and hurt as he peered intently at his uncle. Makaloz sighed. Telling the truth did not guarantee Makal's safety, but... all he could do was try. He gave Luk a levelling look, full of hatred, and then turned to his nephew whilst staring intently at the ground. "We're... tainted, Makal," he raised his head, staring him in the eyes, "by the black blood of Bottomjaw." Makal's eyes widened, in disgust, and shame. "Yes, boy, your oncle here waz a Mykun, a general. He was there at the Ivasion of Iggrup but deseted like the possy he iz," Luk said, striking a random Zulicwoman in the head with his axe. She began screaming, her eyes widening with primal terror. Then... she collapsed. With some difficulty, Luk retrieved the axe. Another nearby woman vomited loudly. "Shot op, bitch! Or I'll give you same as I gave har!" Makal began crying silently. The other boys whispered amongst themselves. The Iggrubman's face was hidden. But he knew that he was angry. 'How could he not be? Maybe he even remembers. What I wouldn't give to allow him his revenges on me. It's the least the young man deserves.' Makaloz whispered, "stop this, Luk, please." In a few furious motions, Luk turned completely around, and walked to Makaloz, grabbing him roughly by the chin. "Did you just focking tell me what to do, traitor? You know what, fock you, and fock Viceses. I'll have the head of erryone in this balley, and if it means I'll lose my head, so fockin' be it!" Luk smiled cruelly, and made to strike the Iggrubman. An odd first choice for a victim. Perhaps he was attracted to his anger. The Iggrubman grabbed the axe, breaking it, and throwing back Luk with supernatural force. Makaloz was no fool. He recognized it for what it really was immediately; magicks. 'In a place like Zul?' Luk staggered up, "looks like we got a wily one, huh-? Kill him you fockers!" They charged at him, but he threw them back, one by one, as though they were but his toys. In an instant, everyone's cages flew open, save for Makal's. A few surviving soldiers grabbed him, and ran for it. The Iggrubman must not have noticed them. He was too busy killing his active enemies. When all was said and done, Luk had lost his head, and Nahak had been flayed alive. The Iggrubman took one look at Makaloz, and with the flick of a finger, the chieftain's head went flying. In that brief instant before death, Makaloz saw the Iggrubman collapse to the ground. If he could still have smiled, he would have. (< Previous Chapter) - (Next Chapter >) Category:Tale of Zul Category:Chapters